Why a Wolf Cries by Julie Steimle (interesting books to read .TXT) 📕

“I,” Skyler said, continuing the story, “helped her take the wolf back to the ranger station where we found one park ranger who would watch after him until we could get a vet.”

“How did you do that?” Andrew asked, genuinely interested.

“We made a drag stretcher.”

Mr. Deacon smiled at Skyler, sitting up a bit. His amber eyes were shining in approval.

“That’s where Aunt Audry is right now,” Skyler said, mostly for Mr. Deacon’s sake. “At the ranger station. She went with two friends of hers to pick him up.”

Almost all of them peeked to the sleeping patient again. Did he know about the wolf?

“How far away is it?” Tom asked, struggling to keep a straight face.

Andrew bopped him on the head. “Stop it.”

“A decent drive from here,” Mr. Deacon supplied. He nodded to Skyler. “We were camping near the canyon, my son and I.”

“Where was your son going when he got in his car accident?” Doug asked Mr. Deacon, not quite changing the subject. He felt they were connected somehow.  

“I don’t know,” Mr. Deacon honestly replied. “When I got back to the campground, all his things were gone. I assumed he had heard about the wounded wolf and was probably trying to help.”

“We never saw him,” Skyler declared with a shrug.

Tom coughed on another laugh. Both Doug and Skyler stared at him, wondering what was so funny. That guy had the oddest sense of humor.

Andrew shoved Tom back and said to Doug and Skyler, “How bad was the wolf?”

“Honestly?” Doug sighed, helping the nurses who had returned to finish bandaging up veins on both father and son and take equipment away. He promised himself to get a sample of that blood also. There was some in the tubes still. “I thought he was a gonner. He was covered in blood.”

“That was from the cougar,” Skyler interjected.

Doug frowned at his son.

“That’s what Aunt Audry said,” Skyler protested louder, coloring. “She said most of the blood was from when the wolf bit the cougar’s throat out.”

Doug shrugged. All of the blood looked the same on the wolf’s fur. The wolf had been coated, and most of his skin was torn off on one side.

“She checked his pulse,” Skyler insisted watching the effect of his words on his audience. “And checked his breathing. She was sure it was just a flesh wound—and she cleaned it all and bandaged it, though I helped.”

The redhead rubbed Skyler head of hair, grinning. He then looked to Mr. Deacon. “It’s a good thing he was among good people.”

Doug’s brows met in the middle as he stared at Andrew. Did he also know the wolf?

“So… the wolf saved your daughter?” Tom said out of the blue. It seemed to be the point Mr. Deacon had wanted to make.

Skyler nodded sharply. After a minute, so did Doug, though he had not wanted to admit it. “I guess so. I had initially thought Audry had saved her—tranquilized the cougar and all. But… come to think of it, the wolf did prevent the cougar from getting a better bite. All cougar got was my daughter’s arm.”

“Well, Audry is a good aim with that trank gun of hers,” Tom chuckled. “I can image she did her best.”

Doug and Skyler stared at him.

“And how do you know that?” Mr. Deacon demanded, sharply eying Tom.

Not even bothered, Tom replied, “Heavens. How many times has she tranked that wolf? First in that den when she took that bullet out? Or perhaps… no wait—that was Tricia. She shot Tricia.”

“Tricia?” Doug stared.

“The witch,” Skyler hissed. “Remember the story?”

Breaths drew in.

“How do you know that?” Andrew looked amazed. He was now grinning at Skyler with fondness.

Tom laughed broadly, also interested.

Seeing all eyes on him, Skyler said, “Come on, Dad? Don’t you remember when we made her tell us that boring witch story? Aunt Audry said she shot that crazy witch with her tranquilizer gun. And she showed us that website. And we just met that Silvia—”

“Silvia?” Tom and Andrew exclaimed together.

Mr. Deacon grabbing his nose ridge.

“Silvia Lewis is here?” Andrew gasped, going pale.

Tom flicked Andrew’s nose. “Did you forget already? She’s married now. She is now a Spade…. Or a Queen of Hearts, if he changed his name.”

Andrew cringed. “Stop it.”

“About that,” Mr. Deacon spoke up.

Both men turned stiffly, hearing the tone in the older man’s voice like a father monitoring his naughty sons. Doug pulled Skyler close to him, feeling they were now intruding in a private conversation.

“…How in the world did those two get together? I thought Randon was avoiding witches.”

Skyler glanced up at his father with raised eyebrows.

“Well…” Tom said, cringing. “In my defense I was in west coast and was not involved at all. I didn’t even know they were romancing, let alone met. I had my own private problems to deal with at the time. Otherwise I would have stopped them.”

So Mr. Deacon looked to Andrew.

Andrew shrugged, cheeks coloring. “Sorry. They are free people, and they eloped. They knew everyone would object—Rick especially.”

“Did her father not even get informed?” Mr. Deacon sounded distressed at the news. His shoulders hung a degree, his back a smidge stooped—though such a man was not likely to hunch for long.

Andrew peeked to Doug and Skyler, coloring a little. He raised a finger for him to hold on a second.  Turning to Doug, Andrew smiled with a genial nod, “Is there anything else you need to do, Doctor?”

Blushing, as few ever called him ‘Doctor’, Doug shook his head. “No. We’re good. But… I have a question. I’ve tested your son’s blood, and the toxicology—”

“Yes.” Mr. Deacon nodded firmly. “We know. There’s no cure. And it is toxic. All things tainted with his blood should be disposed in an incinerator.”

“Is it catching?” Doug asked, gazing to him in particular. “Is it a communicable disease?”

Meeting his gaze, understanding those looks, Mr. Deacon replied, “It is only passed on through…uh, blood. You could say, our bite is also toxic—if it breaks the skin. But it is not…” he glanced to Skyler who was twelve, “sexually transmitted.”

Doug nodded. Yet he halted on a thought. “Our blood? You have it too?”

Mr. Deacon nodded frankly. “I was born with it. But my father acquired it. However, my son inherited it. And in all likelihood, my son’s children (if he were ever to have any) would inherit it as well.”

“What kind of disease is it?” Doug asked, curious.

To that, Mr. Deacon shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot disclose that. However, I can assure you that if someone were to acquire via saliva, it can be cured quite easily.”

“It’s not a fun cure, though,” Tom muttered.

They looked to him. But even Andrew nodded at this.

“It’s an herbal cure, though,” Andrew added. “Cheap.”

Mr. Deacon chuckled, nodding.

“But you can’t disclose it?” Doug repeated, eyes narrowing.

Mr. Deacon nodded again.

“Why not?”

Sighing, the wealthy, oddly respectable yet intimidating man slid off his bed, approaching Doug with the most sympathetic gaze. “Because, most people won’t understand. We get persecuted for this disease. The world is still too superstitious.”

Andrew cleared his throat, an objection there. About what, was not evident.

“—in here?” A nurse and a dignified man in a suit stepped into the room.

The man’s eyes lit up when he saw Mr. Deacon. “Sir!” but then his eyes rested on the unconscious son. “Howie…”

“Excellent.” Mr. Deacon grinned with relief at the newcomer. “Henry. Keep an eye on my son. Doug and Tom, would you mind coming out with me into the hall?”

Both of them nodded, though Doug noticed Mr. Deacon getting a firm grip on Tom who seemed foot-draggingly reluctant to leave the room. He probably still wanted to write that L on the unconscious man’s forehead. Skyler followed his father out—especially as the nurses glaring at him for being in there in the first place.

Once in the hallway, Mr. Deacon said to the pair of them, “I need you both to keep this under your hats.”

“I don’t wear hats—” Tom declared cheerily.

“You know exactly what I mean, Mr. Brown,” Mr. Deacon snarled. “You know your job in this situation. But I want you to include protecting the Bruchenhaus family from unwanted attention. Got it?”

A shiver of warmth went through Doug. Even more when Tom gleefully grinned, nodding. “Sure thing,” Tom said with joyful chaos in his smile. “But can I go back and—”

“No.” Mr. Deacon glared wolfishly at the man.

Shrugging, oddly not intimidated (though Doug and Skyler felt entirely so, on the verge of peeing their pants) Tom slipped out from the man’s grip and skipped off as if to tease the nurses instead. Doug hoped he would not do anything stupid. The last thing they needed was a #MeToo moment.

“When your sister gets back here,” Mr. Deacon whispered to Doug, “I would like you to keep her distracted from my son’s guests who will be coming—at least as long as you can.”

As puzzling as the request was, Doug nodded.

“He would not want her life complicated,” Mr. Deacon explained, meaning his son.

Yet Doug asked, “What is really going on? The doctors who have been handling him have been acting oddly. They wouldn’t tell me who he was last night.”

“Really?” Mr. Deacon frowned. He peered toward another hallway. “I supposed that means I will have to speak with them then.”

“I’ve also overheard rumors that your son was actually attacked by a wild animal, like my daughter was, and was not in a car accident,” Doug said, waiting for a response. “They said his wounds were not the kind he would get from an accident.”

He watched the venerable man nod to himself. “I see.”

“And I’ve asked myself, why would a man hide such a thing?” Doug tagged on, waiting.

Nodding, Mr. Deacon contemplated that. He did not respond quickly, though he eventually said, “Whatever my son did to gain those wounds, be it a car accident or a presumed animal attack, I doubt he wants the latter to be rumored about. He’s impulsive and often acts before thinking. All I care about is that no one died.”

Doug exhaled. That made sense, but wasn’t a satisfying answer. Rick clearly was badly wounded.

“I don’t want to cause worry or hysteria,” Mr. Deacon explained in a low voice. “Would you simply please stick to the narrative about the car accident. I have a feeling that was what my son wanted people to think.”

Doug blinked at him. “What? Are you saying he was attacked? Was he communing with wolves or something?”

Painfully chuckling, Mr. Deacon shook his head. “Sadly, no. Howie has been shy of wolves since Germany. So believe me, when he wakes, I have questions myself. I don’t really know what happened. I want to hear it from him.”

Shy of wolves since Germany? What an odd thing to say? Doug puzzled over it as Mr. Deacon walked him back to Maris’s room where he paid his respects to Jean before leaving. However, the request to keep all these goings on from Audry… Doug decided that was for the best. Somehow he had a feeling these weird folk were the reason Audry had left New York City. They were magnets for trouble—especially the blonde named Tom. The man seemed to be the embodiment of chaos.

Chapter Nine

When